Tuesday, 27 May 2014

Review of Weekend (2011)

Andrew Haigh’s “Weekend” is a British film about two gay men
who meet on a Friday night, have a one-night stand, and try not to fall in love
over the eponymous timeframe as they contend with the knowledge that one of
them is going away to America in two days to do a two year art course. For
ninety-odd minutes we observe the pair, Glen (Chris New) and Russell (Tom
Cullen), as they make love, take drugs, pontificate, philosophise, and tease
their feelings for each other. They barely know each other, but that spark is
there, and it burns ever brighter as the weekend goes on.

It’s a torturous state of affairs, and it’s one that the
film understands perfectly. Rooted in the minutiae of British life- think high-rise
flats, dodgy nightclubs, and cups of tea and coffee- this film has a certain
enchanting aura to it, bolstered by Ula Pontikos’ dreamy photography, the
floaty shot composition (one scene seems to echo the apartment sequence in
Godard’s Breathless) and the naturalistic acting. The film sticks by Glen, and director
Haigh takes time to observe his behaviours; he keeps his trainers in their
shoebox, for example, and he is clearly made uncomfortable by crowds of people.
He’s quiet, and softly spoken. He takes baths, not showers. His eyes have a warm, dark quality about them. He is not one to talk about his
feelings, and we sense a loneliness about him.

Russell is different. He’s loud, excitable, and friendly in
that way which comes across as subduing a certain sadness, and as we find out,
he is. Glen and Russell go together in that way that opposites tend to,
introvert and extrovert; they fill in each other’s gaps. Russell has an ongoing
art project interviewing strangers after sex, which Glen is reluctant to be a
part of, but he nevertheless gives it a go, in part out of curiosity. His words
are mumbled, and forced. He is not a man especially comfortable in his own life and skin,
and to an extent the film represents his personal flowering. He does one thing
at the end of the film which he would not have done at the beginning; there’s
genuine development going on here.

Haigh, who also wrote, is careful to keep one eye open
regarding society’s views of homosexuality. Early on, Glen hears homophobic
slurs coming from Russell’s window, and he shouts down angrily. It is not the
first time we hear homophobic slurs in the film. What I found especially
interesting was that the film does not come across as having an axe to grind,
and it takes care to present both sides. Glen, being who he is, seems to want
more rights for gay people, or at least more recognition. He’s indignant that “the
straights” tend to box gay people up. Russell, on the other hand, simply wants
what everyone else has; cosiness, comfort, happiness. He’s less concerned with
agendas, and more with overcoming his loneliness.

We hear the pair share their stories. One particularly
painful moment sees Glen talk about how he got walked in on by a friend when he
was masturbating. He wasn’t friends with that person any more, and “I wasn’t
friends with anyone else after he told the school”

“That’s awful, Glen”

“It is what it is”

This is ultimately a tender and truthful film with a
detached, observant style that really allows us to get under the skin of the
characters. It contains moments that are genuinely moving, genuinely sexy, and
genuinely tragic, and the film as a whole is genuine. It’s the kind of movie
with characters who reference other movies. It takes care to suck the viewer
in, and it’s far more than simply being a gay Before Sunrise. It’s a
spellbinding experience from beginning to end that has similarities with Lost
In Translation in what it says about human connections.

I was moved, plainly
and simply, by the plight of the characters in this bewitching love story, which understands that true love isn't easy, it isn't always convenient, and yet is sometimes painfully unavoidable.